Lullaby
by SJlikeslists
Summary: For him, it was soothing.


Disclaimer: _The Pretender_ isn't mine.

AN: I don't know what it's like inside Angelo's head. I do know that the official Centre theory that he has no personality of his own is obviously incorrect.

_**Lullaby**_

It might have looked odd if anyone had been looking. It might have brought attention if anyone had noticed. No one did. They seldom looked. It was rarer that they noticed. He was safe from their attention wrapped in the cocoon of being invisible while directly in their sight. It was always safest hiding where they could see - even when he wasn't hiding. He followed the seemingly random twists and turns with the practiced, confident air of one who was sure of where he was going. He wasn't, of course, but that didn't matter. He never knew where he was going, but he always knew exactly how to get there.

Even more importantly, he knew that he _wanted_ to get there. It might be a maze for other people, but for him this place had always been a labyrinth. Each turn had a purpose. Each change of direction was a certainty - not a chance. Darkness didn't matter. Signs didn't matter. Markings didn't matter. Hallways or ventilation shafts were equally fair game. Walking, creeping, and crawling were employed as they were needed. The method wasn't important. It only mattered that he followed.

Turn left. This way. Keep coming. Take the second right. That one. Wait. Wait. The camera has to turn away.

It could have been arrows superimposed on the surface of the path he was to trace. It could have been a whisper that guided him on his way. It could have been a change in his senses as he traveled - this way was wrong; this way was right. It wasn't any of them. It was all of them at once. There was only one path. He could see it. He could hear it. He could feel it. It was simply there.

Stop. Here. This is the place. This is where you want to be.

Whether it was the source of the calling or merely the calling's goal, the path had come to an end. He always knew how to get there, and now he knew where this there was.

_Her._ He had come to her.

He was sitting in the shadows - seeing without being seen, hearing without being heard.

And he felt . . . he remembered this feeling. He had felt it long ago or maybe not so long. Time was not something he always understood. Something had been different though because in the memory of this feeling he didn't have to duck his head. She looked different then, and his friend was there with them. This feeling was from that time - the time when it had been the three of them together or the two of them together as he watched from beside (which was together enough for him).

He let it wash over him. This feeling was pleasant and warm. He remembered that. It had been so different from what he had known before. He had been lost in all the emotions. There were so many people all feeling different things, and he hadn't understood who were they and who was he. It was loud, and it was hard. He couldn't be everything they wanted all at once, so he hadn't been anything at all.

She had come. _With candy._ That was important. That was special. Did he remember why? He did, and he felt a smile briefly flit across his face at the thought.

There had been candy, and there had been her. She had told stories then of the place she called outside, and sometimes outside wasn't even needed. She could create _it_ just as well inside in this place. Almost always, she used the words "you aren't scared, are you?" He remembered that.

Sometimes, she didn't feel the same. Sometimes, she wasn't the same her. She was right now in this place where he had come. Just like he remembered. There was no friend here. Instead, she was with the baby. The new one. The one that had been brought downstairs by the man who called her "Angel."

Back and forth. Back and forth. The chair was rocking them. She liked the baby, but the baby hurt her. He could see that even without feeling. He knew it because she was looking. She looked at the baby with her wishing eyes - the kind you could see back in if you were looking at her too. The same eyes that had looked at him once when it wasn't really him. Those same eyes had looked at the other him. The one he wasn't. The one in the place where there had been music that he couldn't remember how to be.

This wasn't a place for babies. But this one, at least, had her. There were no stories. She didn't speak of outside. She didn't challenge or taunt. She didn't speak at all. She was humming. It was different, but it felt the same.

She wasn't humming because she thought they weren't watching. She knew that they were, and she did it any way. She didn't care if they heard her. She wanted them to hear. She didn't care if they disapproved. She wanted them to be displeased. She wanted them to see and know that she knew they were seeing. She wanted them to know that they didn't matter - not to her.

He breathed in deeply and let it all wash over him again. It was intoxicating, and he was grateful. It was just like it had been then. It was beautiful. It was reassuring. He even knew a name for this feeling. It was . . . defiance.

In the place where he had been lost, that was what had shown through. You didn't have to want what they wanted. You didn't have to be what they wanted. You could challenge. You could sneak. You could disobey. You could . . . choose. She had brought that to him, to them, and now she was bringing it to the baby. Even if she didn't know.

He curled on his side and laid his head on the cool metal as he closed his eyes. It shouldn't be comfortable, but he was. It was comfortable, and it was safe. He and the baby were both being lulled to sleep by the woman he could still have glimpsed through the grate (if he had been looking). The baby was quiet, and the man was still. His thoughts drifted back to another time and to candy. The candy that wasn't just candy. It was power because it was knowledge. It was the knowledge that you could want something _because you wanted it_. It was the knowledge that choices also came to you. It was the breakthrough that allowed you to admit there was a _you_ that meant _I_, and that was the best toy surprise.


End file.
